I work for a grocery store. We’re a pretty big, popular store — or at least we used to be.

We have thirteen lanes available for checkout, but only one of them is manned at any time. We have twenty-four self-checkout kiosks, but none of them are ever manned.

Typically, people use the self-checkout kiosks. Eventually, someone has a problem at a kiosk. They hit the call attendant button. There are no attendants.

It varies how long they wait, but eventually, they give up and either walk away, leaving their stuff, or they go to the one manned lane and wait in line.

The kiosks don’t automatically reset when left alone, so the call attendant light keeps blinking. Eventually, all of the kiosks end up in “call attendant” mode, and the line in front of the single manned checkout starts getting unmanageable.

It’s usually an hour or two after that point that management wanders over to the self-checkout kiosks and resets them.

Our manager always complains that no one knows how to use the kiosks and laments not being able to get rid of the single checkout person per shift. Meanwhile, shoppers have been learning that this store has extremely long wait times and simply going elsewhere.

What used to be a bustling, busy, store is now dead and empty most of the day.

Me: “Sir, you can’t park there. That’s our fire access spot.”

Customer: “Oh, it’s okay. I manage the store next door.”

Me: “I… don’t see how that changes anything. You’re not allowed to park there.”

Customer: “Managers are allowed to park in the fire access spots.”

Me: “That is absolutely not true.”

Customer: “What would you know? You’re just a cashier.”

Me: “You’re right. What would I know?”

The customer-slash-manager-next-door proceeded into the store. What would I know? I would know the number for the towing company that our business park gives to all stores on the property for moments like this. Funny how a manager of a store in the same business park wouldn’t know about that.

He did know about it about half an hour later when the tow truck arrived!

A customer comes up to me with a lottery scratch card.

Customer: “Hi. My grandma bought me some scratchcards for my birthday from here, and this one says I won $10,000. Is she pulling a prank?”

Me: *Scanning the card* “No, she isn’t! This is a winning card. Congratulations!”

Customer: “Wow… so, what happens now?”

Me: “We’re not authorized to deal with that much money, so you’d need to contact the lottery guys. Their number is on the back of the card.”

He thanks me, and normally that would be noteworthy enough. A few days later, he’s back.

Customer: “Hi. Do you remember me?”

Me: “I do, and congratulations!”

Customer: “Thanks! So, I used about $3,000 to pay my grandma’s credit card bill, but I have $7,000 left. Could I use it to pay for customers using food stamps?”

Me: “I… I’m not following.”

Customer: “My grandma and I were on EBT, uh… food stamps for a while, and it was rough. We’re a bit better off now, especially now that the credit card is paid off! I want to help others on food stamps. I was kinda hoping I could, like, camp out today and offer to pay for the groceries of your customers on food stamps.”

I was NOT expecting that, and so I have to call my manager. My manager’s response:

Manager: “Well, we can’t stop you.”

And so Mr. Scratchcard does just that! He hangs out at the small café near the checkout lanes with a coffee and a book, and whenever a customer comes by with an EBT card, he offers to pay for their groceries himself. There is confusion, smiles, tears, and hugs.

He is there all day, and at the end of the day, my manager approaches him.

Manager: “You’re going to go down in memory at this place for a very long time.”

Customer: “I still have over a thousand dollars left, though! Oh, well…”

Mr. Scratchcard was back a week later to finish up the rest.

That was almost twenty years ago now, and it remains the single kindest act I have ever seen.

My parents were from Georgia and Florida respectively, and though I have never lived in the south, I did end up with a very mild southern accent, including the tendency to use words like “darling” and “honey” when talking to people. This includes at work, talking to my customers. Usually, it’s not a problem, though I have had some people ask me not to do it after the first time because it makes them uncomfortable or whatever, and that’s fine; I understand and don’t mind the adjustment.

This woman, apparently, was a slightly different story. I was helping her with a money order, and everything had gone perfectly normally — until the end, when I wished her a good day

Me: “All right, have a good day, darling.”

Her entire demeanor changed and she just glared at me.

Customer: “My name is [Customer], not ‘darling’. I do not appreciate those kinds of euphemisms. Is that clear?”

Now, I have no problem adjusting, but her sudden anger took me off guard, and the “Is this clear?” with a very condescending attitude irritated me. It took me a second to respond, so she felt the need to repeat herself.

Customer: “Is that clear?”

Me: “Yes, I’m sorry, ma’am.”

She just continued to glower at me.

Customer: “I think it’s incredibly disrespectful to use those phrases, and I will not be treated like that. Is that clear?”

I was already annoyed with this woman for a simple thing that I would have been happy to fix if she hadn’t gotten on her high horse, and I had already apologized, so I just kind of blinked at her.

Customer: “I said… is. That. Clear?”

Me: “Of course, miss. I’m sorry.”

She just stormed off, with a final comment that she was going to complain to my store manager about me.

I caught my manager later and let her know.

Me: “Hey, you might get a complaint because, apparently, one of my customers took great offense that I accidentally called her ‘darling’.”

My manager just snorted and shook her head.

Manager: “Are you serious?” 

I understand some people don’t care for it, especially since I live nowhere near the south so it’s uncommon to hear, but that reaction seemed a bit extreme. I have no problem adjusting, but don’t treat me like a child and lecture me because of a dialect phrase. I wonder how that woman would fare anywhere farther south where most people speak like this.

I had to make a stop at the grocery store one night to grab three things that I’d forgotten to get during my usual weekly shopping trip. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I grabbed my basket, powerwalked to each item, and then powerwalked straight toward the registers.

As I was heading to the registers, I walked past an older man who was just shuffling along. He was moving in the general direction of the registers, but at a snail’s pace, so I moved past him and made my way up to the self-checkout area.

All six stations were occupied, so I settled my basket on my hip to wait. I pulled out my phone, scrolled through some of my notifications, and then, roughly forty seconds or so after I walked up, a station opened up.

At that same moment, the old man I passed finally made it over to the self-checkout area. He was still around ten feet away from me as I started to walk forward when he piped up.

Old Guy: “Oh, yeah, think you deserve to go first just cause you cut off an old man, huh?”

I paused and very briefly considered turning around to try and justify myself by pointing out how he was nowhere near the lines and how I wasn’t going to just stand behind him as he shuffled through the store on the off chance he was heading toward the registers. But, I realized that there was no way that trying to argue with someone throwing a tantrum over the fact that he was slower than everyone else in the store was going to turn out positively for me, so I resumed walking forward.

Old Guy: “Right! No shame for cutting off an old man; just keep walking. No shame!”

I put my basket down, pulled out and scanned each of my items, and then stuck my card in for payment. Elapsed time, maybe half a minute. In that time, two other people had finished and exited behind me, but the old man continued to stand at the entrance and shout at me about “no shame”. I wasn’t really paying attention to what he said, so that’s the only bit that stuck in my memory.

I finished paying, collected my things, and headed toward the exit, with the guy still shouting after me. I did glance back as I was setting my basket back with the rest near the front, and I got to see a lady cut around the old man, who was still standing at the entrance to the self-checkouts shouting. He turned to start shouting at her, ignoring the employee who was apparently trying to direct him to one of the open registers.

To the old guy, I am sincerely sorry your body and mind are failing you, but I am not willing to act like it is my fault that is happening to you.